Chapter One.

Here goes nothing...

Cancer tastes like mashed potatoes.

 

        This is the first thing I notice as I am sitting in the doctors office being told that I have cancer. I guess most peoples first reaction would be to cry, or scream, or both (which is what my mother is doing), but not me. I suppose this is partially because I've known for a while. I mean, I haven't officially known until now, but when I found a large lump on my left leg two days after my fifteenth birthday, I knew something was up.  So now, three weeks later, here I am. An official cancer patient. I am no longer Angel, for I will now be known as "the girl who has cancer"... great.

         The next hour goes by way too slowly, as Dr. Whoever tells me and Mom everything we need to know about cancer. Atleast I assume that's what he's saying, but I'm way too busy watching the little maroon bubbles that appear in front of me whenever he types something on his laptop to litsen to him. I catch a few  parts of the doctors speech, like, "She'll be checked in to St. Mary's as soon as possible", and "Luckily, we caught it early.", And the occasional "Oh, my poor Angel." from my swollen eyed mother.

        It's very cold in the doctors office. Cold and boring. Couldn't they atleast paint the walls something other then white? Or put in a few pictures, maybe even a window?  We've been asked to wait while the doctor goes to find some papers or something. Mom is still crying and I am so ready to get out of here. The fact that I am going to spend the next few months in a hospital terrifies me, so I'm trying to think of other things, but my mind keeps going back to the cancer, and I keep tasting mashed potatoes over and over and over.

        I didn't tell my mom about my Synesthesia until the summer before my freshman year, and she still doesn't really understand it. I don't blame her though, it's a hard thing to explain to anyone who isn't a Synesthete. My case is rare. Whenever I hear certain sounds or words, there is a color and shape or taste associated with it. For example, when I hear the word "summer", little orange spirals appear right before my eyes, and vanish almost instantly.  When I hear the word "cancer", I taste mashed potatoes. I hate mashed potatoes. I hate the doctor. I bet you a hundred dollars I'm gonna hate cancer too.

Author's Note

Well, here's chapter one. Enjoy!

Reviews

[RevolutionwithPaper]

I love that! I cannot wait to read more!

[Ella Michelle]

This is amazing, and I truely hope that this story isn't true...but it does seem to be like really realistic. Good job and keep on going!!